


Take Me Out of this Dull World

by LifeIsWay2short2takeItSlow



Category: LazyTown
Genre: Elves, F/F, F/M, Faeries - Freeform, M/M, Pixies, Some angst, darker than the show, remake AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-17
Updated: 2018-12-07
Packaged: 2019-07-13 10:42:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16016252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LifeIsWay2short2takeItSlow/pseuds/LifeIsWay2short2takeItSlow
Summary: A remake of the Lazytown series with the characters in different forms and more spiritual events taking place





	1. Welcome to a New Hell

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Spirits of the Season](https://archiveofourown.org/works/12861171) by [Sportscandycollective](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sportscandycollective/pseuds/Sportscandycollective). 



The grassy fields of Lazytown seem to stretch forever. However, away from the residences and city area, there’s dip in the air pressure. While nothing can be seen, the breeze turns almost foreboding. Into this area, a charmed billboard and fence rise. _Humans_ are unable to see this, though not much can be said the same for supernatural creatures. No sound can be heard around the fence, and one touch with the wards up can send someone flying miles high and out of the field.

 

“… those damned shapeshifters.” Robbie grumbles from within the charm.

 

His lair resides beneath the town, and his living area is directly located beneath the closed-off gate. He sits in the fluffy orange chair that once belonged to his father as he eats a nice slice of honey cake. It had been specially made for his guest.

 

“They’ll get theirs in due time.” The guest dressed in pastel blues and pink smacks his lips from another bite of his cake slice. “Tastes just like Mom made.”

 

Robbie pauses ever so slightly at the mention of their mother. _Hanna had been a queen faerie until one fateful night. Glanni was seventeen, trying to coax the wings out of twelve-year-old Robbie’s back. The other boys have been elsewhere in the court, playing with the fireflies. The Order had barged into their house, demanding to find the man of the family. It all happened so fast. The Order wanted to remove the boys from the system since they had human genes. Hanna had been adamant that the Order stays away from her family. She magnetically called the boys to the house and pulled up her wards against the Order. Glanni pulled Robbie to their mother’s side, urging him to join in. Robbie still had problems controlling his fae half, and the result burnt the house and part of the ring._

_The Order had instantly stripped Hanna of her power as she used the last of her energy to pull her boys to safety. They arrived in Lazytown, badly burnt and wheezing. Hanna hadn’t materialized with the boys, and Bobby lay immobile. Robbie had burnt his shoulder blades, signifying that he would never grow wings. He had propped himself on his elbows, coughing up blood. Glanni had been screaming. Not for his mother, but at the Order, cursing them for taking their mother and betraying them._

 

“… Rob?” Glanni has set his cake on the table nearby and is now in front of Robbie’s face. “Robin Glaepur, can you hear me?”

 

Robbie jolts, letting his cake fall to the floor. Glanni takes a step back as Robbie shakily moves to stand up. He brushes the crumbs off his jumpsuit.

 

“I’m fine, Glan.” He assures his brother with a tight smile. “Just haven’t gotten much sleep lately.”

 

Glanni nods, fully aware of his insomnia problems. He lets out a small sigh and allows his feather-light wings to outstretch.

 

“It’s time I get going, Little Bird.”

 

Robbie scrunches up his nose at the family nickname, though he nods all the same. He flicks his wrist, releasing the wards around the lair. Glanni smirks with a nod, and he quickly disappears, leaving only a dissolving shadow in his wake.

 

Robbie rolls his eyes, reclining in his chair. “Wish he’d find some _other_ way to leave…”

 

Outside of Lazytown, a twelve-year-old girl with pink hair is riding in the passenger seat of a car. A social worker is driving, and the girl hasn’t made a sound. She just looks out the window, watching as her surroundings disappear into the melancholy song coming from her headphones as she recalls everything in the past few days.

_Her mom, a human police officer, had been retelling Stephanie the story of how she met her father, a pixie. There had been a sudden crash downstairs. Initially thinking it to be Stephanie’s dad Bela, the thoughts die out when her mom Matilda sees a blinding light coming toward them. She holds Stephanie, shielding her from the light as Bela lets out a painful scream. Stephanie is terrified, but her mother locks her inside the closet._

_“You remember the light wards your father taught you?” Stephanie nods, eye wild. “Keep them on high until you can no longer see the light outside.”_

_“Where are you going, Mama?”_

_“I need to find the crystal in the garage, Pink Stuff. I need to send an alert to Loftskip.” She pauses, giving Stephanie a big hug and a kiss to her forehead. “Stay safe. I love you.”_

_“I love you too,” Stephanie says quietly, holding up her shield._

_She holds her knees to her chin and casts the spell. She’s still learning her spells, but she bites her lip to keep from crying out as she sees the soft yellow hum from behind the door. Before too long, the Selkie has disappeared, and Stephanie lets go of her ward. She’s crying as she unlocks her door, which is now visible on the other side. Her dad is lying face down on the pink carpet, unmoving. Fresh tears erupt from her throat when she realizes he won’t wake up._

 

“We’re here.” The social worker breaks into her thoughts, parking outside City Hall.

 

Stephanie blinks away her dry tears, unbuckling her seatbelt to follow the woman into City Hall. Upon entering the small townhouse, Stephanie is ambushed by her uncle Milford, her dad’s brother, who she hadn’t seen in five years. She remains silent as the social worker talks with Milford and his secretary Bessie. The woman doesn’t say a word about Selkies or even shapeshifters. Instead, she hears the terms ‘home invasion’, ‘homicide’ and ‘suspected kidnapping.’

 

Milford soon leaves Bessie with the social worker, so he can show his niece to her new home. Only two buildings down is the Meanswell residence. He fiddles with the keys but eventually opens the door and guides her to the back. The room is brightly colored in different hues of pink. Milford carries in two black bags and a smaller pink one. Almost robotically, Stephanie walks in. she grabs the small bag, pulling out her diary and a pen. Milford mills around in the doorway, eventually placing a deck of cards and a five-dollar bill on her vanity.

 

“For if you get bored.” He comments lowly by means of explanation. “And money for, if you want to take a look around the town.”

 

She gives him a half-nod and begins to scrawl in her notebook. Milford sighs and retreats. Outside, he realizes that the social worker’s car has gone, so he backtracks. Milford writes a message to Loftskip, hoping that it reaches ‘Number Nine’. Soon as the letter takes off in a specially-made crystal-seeking tube by the mailbox, Robbie is alerted. He’d crafted the tube when he was only thirteen, so he’d know when anyone tried to contact Ipro – the rule-breaking elf who’d glamoured the town all those years ago.

 

A large blue airship is circling the surrounding area and has been for the past two days. A man dressed entirely in blue and white is working on his one-armed push-ups while eating a handful of carrots. The ship’s lights hum and dim before brightening again.

 

“Maybe you should relax a little. Your blood pressure is rising, and you haven’t slept well.”

 

The man sighs, slumping on the floor. “Ugh, I _know_ , Ship. It’s been days since you received that distress call from Matilda. How long will it take for us to”

 

His question is caught off by the sudden thumping of a scroll racing through unused tunnels. His elven ears snap to attention. His alarmed look falters only slightly when he realizes the ship is just as calm as ever. The message finally pops up from a hidden mechanism in the floor, and the elf instinctively flips over the breakfast counter to catch it mid-air.

 

_Loftskip…_

_I don’t know how much my sister-in-law told you, but a Selkie attacked Bela. It took Matilda away, and Stephanie is staying with me now._

_I remember pieces of life with Number Nine. My niece needs a guardian elf at this time in her life. Lazytown is a quaint place to live. Please help._

_Sincerely,_

_Milford Meanswell_

 

The elf looks up to the ceiling in shock after reading the letter in full. “How old is the girl?”

 

“She appears to be twelve, Iþróttaálfur.“

 

“And a _Selkie_ attacked her?” The elf in blue sighs again. “Is she a pixie like Bela?”

 

“Human hybrid.” Loftskip answers.

 

Sportacus nods. He pulls his beanie and glasses over his head and then flips to his wardrobe for his first act as hero. While he searches for his heroic items, Milford remains at the wall by the mailbox, and Stephanie has ventured out to the lesser city area. She sits down at a bench by an ice cream stand. A little blonde boy with sticky fingers seems saddened that no one is manning the stand, turning to find a girl he’s never seen before.

 

“Hi! You must be new.” Stephanie merely nods and inches over. The boy takes this as a sign to continue the conversation. “My name’s Ziggy. I’m nine. How old are you?” Stephanie still doesn’t say anything, and a wide smile appears on Ziggy’s face. “All my friends are playing games at Pixel’s house! Come with me and I’ll introduce you!”

 

Part of Stephanie is wary and doesn’t want to go anywhere. Yet, another part of her is pushing her to meet new people. She looks at Ziggy’s extended, gummy-covered hand and then to his genuine, twinkling eyes. She reaches out her hand when he abruptly stumbles backward.

 

“Robbie Rotten!?”

 

“Yes, hello, Candy Boy. Pink Girl.”

 

“Why are you in town?” There’s no malice to his question; only honest curiosity.

 

Robbie shrugs and holds up a bundle of freshly-made gowns. Stephanie eyes them, seeing how they almost shimmer with _energy_. “Have some new garments for Bessie.”

 

“Wow!” Ziggy grins. “They’re pretty.”

 

Robbie smirks lightly. Before he or Ziggy can say another word, a flash of blue can be seen jutting from the sky on the other end of the park. Robbie’s smirk drops into a scowl as he narrows his eyes at the light source. Ziggy is perfectly oblivious to this and expresses awe. He turns, forgetting about his gaming friends or his new friend, and races to see what’s happening. Robbie shifts the clothes in his arms, looking over to the pink girl.

 

“You’re Matilda and Bela’s girl?”

 

“You know my parents?” She gasps in a voice barely above a whisper.

 

He half-nods. “Bela and I went to grade school together, but I know Matilda better.”

 

Her eyes widen. She opens her mouth to ask another question when she hears her uncle and Ziggy’s voices growing closer, calling to her. She glances in their direction, taking note of the jumpy man alongside them. She turns back to Robbie, only to find that he’s disappeared. Pouting slightly, she turns back around on the bench to face the incoming trio.

 

“Stephanie, I’m glad we found you.” Milford smiles, gesturing to the man in blue. “This is Number Ten. He’s a superhero.”

 

She raises an eyebrow, now more inclined to talk – albeit in a low voice. “Are you really a superhero, Number Ten?”

 

He laughs quietly. “Well, I am a slightly above average hero, Stephanie. And you can call me Sportacus.”

 

She hums in thought, finally stretching out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Sportacus.” In an afterthought, she turns to the younger blonde boy. “And it’s nice to meet you too, Ziggy.”

 

“Have you met any of the other children yet?” Her uncle questions her.

 

She shakes her head. “I met someone named Robbie, but no other kids.”

 

“They’re playing video games at Pixel’s house.” Ziggy supplies.

 

Milford nods. “Ah, well, would you run along and gather them, Zigmin?”

 

Ziggy pauses somewhat at the mention of his given name – usually uttered by his mom when he’s in trouble – but he quickly recovers and races to Pixel’s house.

 

“Sportacus knows about your parents, Stephanie.”

 

She lightly blanches, not really wanting to go into detail on that particular sore spot. While a small part of her mind wants to know just _how much_ he knows. Instead, she asks, “Uncle, what do you know about Robbie Rotten?”

 

“Hmm? Oh, not much, I’m afraid. He designs clothing for Bessie to sell. Other than that, he stays to himself and often complains if someone is making a lot of noise.”

 

“Has he lived here long?”

 

Milford makes a slight squawking noise. “I believe he’s been here longer than anyone else here. Except _maybe_ Bessie. That’s _one_ line of conversation she won’t go into.”

 

Stephanie doesn’t get a chance to question him when Ziggy returns, followed by three other boys and a girl. He places his lollipop from his mouth to his pocket and goes about introductions.

 

“This is Stingy. Pixel. Jives. And Trixie.” He pauses so each of them can wave. “And this is Stephanie. She’s the mayor’s niece. And this is Sportacus. He’s the mayor’s… friend. And he’s a superhero!”

 

“Like, a _real_ superhero?” The eldest, Jives, is the first to break the concentrated silence.

 

“Well, I’m actually just a slightly above average hero,” Sportacus explains.

 

“Huh.” He nods. “My pops told me once I turned fourteen last month I was supposed to clear my head from all the comics and superheroes. Wait till he finds out we got a live one in town.”

 

Sportacus only purses his lips. Pixel stands out then.

 

“H-Hi, Stephanie. Are you here to visit for a while?”

 

She frowns a little. “No… I’m moving here.”

 

“Cool.” He grins.


	2. Disguised Like It's Normal

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stephanie adjusts to the town  
> Robbie adjusts to the newcomers  
> More episodes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little something on the kids’ family lives (though not too into detail yet). 
> 
> Jives lives with his dad and grandmother;   
> Pixel lives with his two moms;   
> Trixie lives with her dad;   
> Stingy lives with his mom and servants;   
> Ziggy lives with his mom and dad;   
> of course, Stephanie is adjusting to living with her uncle.

Through the kids’ interactions, Sportacus and Stephanie quickly learn that Jives is a laid-back advice giver, Trixie is an outspoken prankster, Pixel is an intelligent inventor, and Stingy is as his nickname implies and rich to boot. Sportacus convinces the kids to come to the park and play a game – well, most of them, anyway. Stephanie had opted to return to the mayor’s house and help him fix a cake. Using some chalk and a jump rope, Sportacus had started the kids on a small aerobic game.

 

However, while Sportacus and the kids play their game, Stephanie slinks away from the house. She heads into town, coming across a familiar figure leaning against a tree. She quietly debates to herself whether or not she should bother him. He’s moving his hands in a certain fashion, staring at the ground that is shielded by a shrubbery. Eventually, she throws a phony grin on her face and walks up to him.

 

“Hello, Mr. Rotten.”

 

The man drops his hands, and Stephanie could have sworn she’d seen a faint purple glow surround them. He cracks his back, standing tall before facing her.

 

“Hi, Pink Girl.”

 

“It’s Stephanie.” She supplies helpfully.

 

He only shrugs. “Stephanie, Pink Girl… what’s it matter? You know I’m talking to you. What are you doing out here?”

 

Her grin falters ever so slightly, but she picks it up effortlessly. “They’re playing some silly game in the park. I just wanted to go for a walk. What are _you_ doing out here?”

 

He eyes her suspiciously and then motions for her to come over. She eyes him warily in response but joins him at the tree. Behind the bushes and fencerow are six expertly dug holes in the ground. She frowns in confusion and looks up at him.

 

“You’ve been _digging holes_?” When he shrugs in affirmation, she moves closer to the nearest one. “How deep are they?”

 

“Eh, the first two are only about four feet. I was getting used to it, so they’re a little choppy. The others are all nine feet even.”

 

“And, you were just digging out of boredom?”

 

“Digging is productive.” He answers evasively.

 

She looks back at him, picking up a very observant piece of evidence(?). “But your clothes aren’t dirty. And you’re not sweating.”

 

“I changed my clothes and I rarely sweat.”

 

Seeing as this conversation is getting her no answers, she decides to change the topic. “Have you met Sportacus yet?”

 

He waves a dismissive hand. “No. From what it seems, I’d say he’s from the North Sea, and he’s most likely related to Number Nine. So, I have no reason to meet him unless it is absolutely necessary.”

 

She contemplates this. “I take it you didn’t like Number Nine?”

 

He blanches lightly. “We had… differentiating views.”

 

She nods understandably. “On Lazytown?”

 

“On _everything_ , Little Girl.”

 

A sour expression covers her face as she barely squeaks out an ‘oh.’ There is a sound of glass breaking not too far off in the distance, toward the residences. It springs Robbie to his feet.

 

“You haven’t told anyone about our little encounter, have you?”

 

She looks a bit shocked. “Well, yeah. I told my uncle and Sporta”

 

“What did you tell them!?” He demands to know, suddenly towering over her.

 

“J-We just talked. Nothing specific.”

 

He looks satisfied with that answer. “Good. Don’t be telling anyone that I know your parents, okay?” At her nod, he straightens his vest and ushers her away from him. “That’s good. Now, run along. I’m sure Loud Girl just knocked out someone’s window with a flying ball.”

 

Stephanie gasps, trying to see from her short position on the ground. Seeing nothing, she turns to say goodbye to Robbie, but he is no longer there. With a short huff, she takes off down the street to investigate the noise. She returns to the mayor’s house, peering around the corner to find Trixie and Stingy arguing beside a broken window on the side of City Hall. While thinking about what to do, she notices Sportacus flip on the scene and looking a bit cautious.

 

“Guys, what happened?”

 

“Stingy didn’t want to play hopscotch anymore so we started to kick the ball instead,” Trixie explains hurriedly.

 

“With _my_ ball!” Stingy adds.

 

“And then he kicked the ball and it broke the window.” Trixie finishes.

 

“ _I_ didn’t break it!” Stingy puts his hands on his hips. “ _You_ did!”

 

Trixie steps up and grabs the front of Stingy’s shirt. She drags him up to the tips of his toes with one hand, and she holds up a tight fist with the other.

 

“Wanna say that again, Jody Spoilero?”

 

“Trixie, please.” Sportacus holds his hands in the air. “Violence solves nothing.”

 

She gives him a tight smirk. “Wanna bet?”

 

“Gambling again, Beatrice?”

 

Quite suddenly, a gruff-looking tan man walks onto the yard. His dirty blonde hair is fading, and a constricted, grim expression has fallen on his face. He wears a stained white t-shirt that doesn’t quite cover his bulging beer belly stomach. He has dark chest and armpit hair sticking out from the shirt. He is also wearing old, holey jeans that drape behind like a plumber’s. His old brown work boots are wearing thin on the soles as he marches up the small hill. He surveys the kids and the newcomer, fishing out a cigarette and lighting it once it’s sticking out of his mouth.

 

Trixie’s tough exterior falls to shambles. Her gaze slips to the floor and she pushes Stingy away from her while attempting to dust him off. She opens and shuts her mouth repeatedly, not wanting to cry and unsure what to say. She glances back to the window, then to Stingy, but she fails to meet the man’s hardened gaze. The man in question switches his gaze from her to Stingy, and then to Sportacus. Finally, he inches toward the man in blue.

 

“What the hell are you supposed to be?”

 

“Uh, I’m Sportacus!”

 

“Were your parents high when they named you?”

 

Sportacus frowns at the rhetorical question, and Stingy attempts to backtrack. The man places a strong hand on his shoulder, unwilling to allow it.

 

“You were harassing my daughter?”

 

Stingy’s eyes threaten to bulge out of their sockets. His breathing patterns go wayward, taking a glance at the grip on his shoulder. The man’s knuckles are whitened and bruised, with the possibility of some dried blood on one of them. In a voice barely above a whisper, he speaks.

 

“N-no, Sir. We were playing a game with my ball.”

 

“I’d say you’re done playing. Mr. Spoilero, go home. I’ll call your mother. Beatrice. I’ll expect you in your room when I get home.”

 

“Yes, Sir.”

 

The children split, and Sportacus feel intimidated. Still, he inches a little closer, tapping on Mr. Troubleby’s arm. The man turns, blowing smoke in the intruder’s face. Sportacus coughs from the rancid airstream, though he gathers his wits.

 

“Is that certainly necessary?”

 

“Do you have any kids, Blue Man?”

 

“No, but I”

 

“Then shut the fuck up and mind your own business.”

 

Mr. Troubleby leaves Sportacus at the broken window, mouth gaping in confusion. He heads around the other side of City Hall, where Stephanie view-line ends. When Sportacus is moving again just five seconds later, he runs after the cynical man. Instead, he almost runs into a wheelbarrow full of stylish clothing items. A tall – taller than Sportacus and Mr. Troubleby – and lanky man in a maroon and purple jumpsuit is at the handles. He looks up to Sportacus in confusion and slight agitation.

 

“Watch where you’re going! What are you, a jumping elf?”

 

The word is said sarcastically, but Sportacus’ eyes widen a bit. He smiles normally by the time the other has checked his clothing and looks up.

 

“Sorry about that. I was just trying to catch Trixie’s dad.” Seeing the taller man roll his eyes, Sportacus holds out his hand. “I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Sportacus.”

 

“Yes, the ‘slightly above-average hero’. So I’ve heard.”

 

“Do you have a name?”

 

“I do.” He nods. “I also have a job. And I’m late.”

 

Sportacus’ crystal suddenly lights up, followed by a prolonged yell. The hero turns his head toward the noise, seeing not too far off, Ziggy losing control on a pair of roller skates.

 

“Someone’s in trou” His catchphrase is shortened when he turns back and realizes he is talking to air.

 

Shrugging, he races after Ziggy to help. Robbie quietly appears just outside of a small boutique in town. A small tinkling of a bell alerts the employee at the counter.

 

“Hey, man.” Jives greets him with a smile. “New digs?”

 

Robbie nods. “The cobalt gown is specifically for Bessie. The rest goes on the racks.”

 

Jives nods in appreciation. He sifts through the clothing, propping each item onto the back counter. Something small and metal tips out of the barrow as Jives begins to add tags to the clothes.

 

“Dude, that’s a nice necklace.”

 

He picks up the accessory analyzing as well as admiring it. The chain is made from solid sterling silver, from the excess of one of his older inventions. The charm that resides in the center is a violet pedestal no larger than an infant’s thumb. An intricate crystal is positioned in the focus. It shines against the light, though it seems to be as carefully made as a snowflake.

 

“It was a failure.” Robbie insists.

 

“Man, this is _no_ failure.”

 

“It needs to be precise.” Robbie snaps at the teenager. “It’s all wrong.”

 

Jives shrugs. “Some people might buy it.”

 

“Not selling.” He replies adamantly, wrenching back his barrow. “You keep the damn thing.”

 

                --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

In the mayor’s house, Stephanie has grabbed the deck of cards her uncle offered her earlier. Sitting on her pink bed, the girl begins to construct a house of cards. Since Ziggy’s accident with Pixel’s latest invention – a pair of skates controlled by remote – he has gone home to work on it. An hour passes, and Pixel has graduated from his invention to playing his favorite _Gotham_ video game on his Game Boy. Stephanie’s house of cards has turned overly complicated, with close to one hundred cards, when Milford knocks on her door.

 

“Oh, Stephanie, there you are. My, that is a very nice castle of cards.”

 

“Thank you, Uncle.” She smiles shyly.

 

“Oh, yes. The best I’ve ever seen without magic.” He nods.

 

Milford doesn’t notice Stephanie’s moves falter. He doesn’t notice the faint pink glow around each of the carefully placed cards. Ever so oblivious Milford instead looks out the window.

 

“The citizens of Lazytown are quite the litterbugs lately. Maybe I should clean the town.”

 

Stephanie nods, getting up from the bed and moving to her uncle’s side. “Well, you _are_ the mayor.”

 

“Oh, yes. Perhaps that would be easier than calling Sportacus to come.”

 

“That reminds me, Uncle.” Stephanie sits on the edge of the bed, unwilling her creation to fall. “Who made the tube launcher by the mailbox. I saw it earlier and figured that’s how you sent the letter to Sportacus.”

 

Milford hums in response. “I’d have to ask Ms. Busybody, I’m afraid. It was already here when I moved to Lazytown come thirty-five years ago. Oh! Don’t forget about Sportacular Day tomorrow.”

 

“What’s that?” Stephanie scrunches up her face in confusion.

 

“Oh, it’s the annual tradition in Lazytown where we celebrate sports. Last year, Mr. Rotten showed us the outfits through the years that athletes have worn in football, cheerleading, tennis, swimming, and even basketball. He made enough costumes for all the kids in town.”

 

“But there wasn’t any gameplay?”

 

“Oh, no. Mr. Rotten isn’t one for much physical activity.” He tuts. “Perhaps _that_ is something worthy of asking Sportacus!”

 

On that note, Milford leaves Stephanie alone. The pink-haired girl holds up her next card and moves to place it on top. When it noticeably wobbles, she forgoes the small wards and allows them to collapse on her bed. Outside, it takes no time for Milford to send a letter to Sportacus. It also takes very few minutes for the other man to take a pole to the ground, flipping off to the mailbox.

 

“What’s the problem, Mayor? Is Stephanie okay?”

 

“She’s fine, Sportacus. But we need to do something _special_ tomorrow.”

 

“What’s tomorrow?”

 

“Sportacular Day.” He smiles. “Mr. Rotten  usually has uniforms for the children, but this year, _you_ could do something _extra special_.” His eyes brighten. “You could show the children an exciting soccer trick! That’s what you’ll do! You’ll show them something fantastic and then you’ll come on the stage and explain it to them, so they can each complete it safely. Perfect! I’ll go let Ms. Busybody know!”

 

Sportacus stares after the man helplessly. _Teach the children a soccer trick?_ He thinks to himself. _Something that Jives could do, so nothing too easy. But also something Ziggy could do. So nothing too difficult. What sort of trick are we looking at here?_

 

A similar thought process is being held by another man. Robbie has returned to his bunker, turning on his cameras and microphones when an energy trespass light is ignited. He’s quickly learned that it goes off when either Sportacus or Stephanie come into view of the cameras.

 

 _That elf…_ Robbie growls in frustration. _He’s taking over the park, and now he’s got the quiet Sportacular Day. It’s never been a favorite day of mine, but it hadn’t ever been made into a holiday._

 

Robbie comes to an immediate conclusion and he flops onto his orange recliner. He grabs his red corded phone, picking it up from the floor and setting it on the nearby table before dialing a rarely used yet memorized number.

 

“City Hall, Bessie speaking.”

 

“Hello, Bess.”

 

“Oh, Robbie.” She sighs. “Jives showed me the gown. It’s simply wonderful.” There’s silence on the other end, and she continues. “Will you be bringing the children’s’ uniforms today?”

 

“I’ll have Jives bring them.” He assures her. “I’ll be absent tomorrow.”

 

“Oh?” In a single syllable, she sounds so disappointed.

 

“Pressing matters.” Robbie insists, hanging up the phone to end the conversation.

 

Part of him hates letting her down, while the rest of him just _cannot_ subject himself to a day with an actual elf. He doesn’t trust this Sportacus. Over the rest of the afternoon, Sportacus practices his soccer tricks, and Robbie crafts six different soccer uniforms – the 2000s for Spoilero, 1990s for Hyperbyte, 1980s for Zweets, 1970s for Troubleby, 1960s for Meanswell, and 1950s for Latabae. Just past nine o’clock the following morning, Sportacus is once again at the park, practicing soccer tricks. Robbie hasn’t slept much, fearing what the elf may do when alone with the children.

 

Robbie makes a quick change into a nice blue suit with a soft purple trim. He adds a pair of black-rimmed glasses and a light brown fedora. The man then sets a glamour over himself, adding roughly five pounds and decreasing his height by half a foot to match that of Sportacus. Robbie collects his uniforms and heads to the surface. Not five minutes into town, he spots Jives heading to the lair.

 

“Latabae, is that you?”

 

The voice is similar to Robbie’s, yet it’s a little more upbeat. Jives pauses momentarily as he searches for the name caller. Setting his sights on the disguised Robbie, his eyes light up.

 

“Hey, Mr. Blind!” He runs up, thinking at the last minute not to clap the man on the back. Instead, he eagerly shakes his hand. “Got some new clothes for the shop to sell us?”

 

“No, no.” He waves his hand. “Got these from Rotten. Said since I was coming to Sportacular Day, I should take these for the kids.”

 

“That’s cool.” Jives shrugs. “We got a superhero in town now. And a new girl.”

 

Robbie shuffles his fingers through the clothes, gesturing to a brightly colored jersey. “A Miss Meanswell?”

 

Jives nods. “Yeah. Steph’s the mayor’s niece. So, you _really_ didn’t bring anything selling wise?”

 

Robbie chuckles lightly. “I might have something I’m willing to part with in my bag.”

 

“No joke?” Jives lets an excited grin appear on his face, already fishing out his wallet.

 

They’ve reached City Hall, and no one is inside. Jives concludes that everyone must already be at the stage in the park. Robbie nods absentmindedly, digging into his empty bag. With practiced magic, he brings a timepiece from his home and manufactures a leather-bound wristband from scratch. Testing its validity, Robbie grips hold. When it doesn’t fall apart, he whips out the beauty.

 

“Found this little number in the back alleyways of BusyTown.”

 

“Dude!” Jives grins wildly, holding out a hundred dollar bill and two fifties. “Two hundred. That’s what I got. Deal?”

 

Robbie pretends to ponder and accepts one of the fifties. “This isn’t strictly a business trip. Fifty is more than fine this time.”

 

Jives attaches it to his wrist, showing it off. He then pulls something hanging from a chain out of his shirt. “Sweet. And check out this baby Robbie made. Score!”

 

Robbie nods politely, collecting the clothes from the table. “Yes, well, let’s get on with the big day, shall we?”

 

At the park, Trixie is the first to notice Robbie and Jives. She runs up to the man, questioning the clothes in his hands.

 

“Rotten made these soccer outfits specifically for each of you. They’re all from different decades and they have all your last names on the backs.” He gestures for the kids to line up, so they can receive their specified uniforms.

 

By the time Mr. Blind has handed out the uniforms and the kids return wearing them, Milford stands up to the podium. He welcomes everyone for turning up, recognizing Mr. Blind in the crowd.

 

“Pixel, could we have some drums?”

 

The boy hooks up a sweet drum solo on his mobile data device. Stephanie likes the beat, so she gets up and dances a little. Her uncle clears his throat, kindly asking that Stephanie sit down, and Pixel turns off the music. Stephanie blushes but does as asked. Pixel also turns off the music with a small bout of confusion written on his face.

 

“Now, what I meant was, Pixel, can we have a drum _roll_?”

 

The boy understands the confusion, and he quickly sets up a drumroll for the mayor. At the cymbal’s ting, Milford first welcomes Bessie to the stage so she can speak on behalf of ‘Mr. Rotten’. During the speech, Sportacus inches closer to the mysterious man who’d come with the costumes.

 

“You made the outfits?”

 

The man steels himself not to jump. “Of course not.” He sneers, finally turning halfway around. “Can’t you hear? Rotten did ‘em.”

 

“Oh.” He nods. “And you are?”

 

“Blind.”

 

Sportacus jumps and flushes. “Oh! Well, do you, um need any help?”

 

“With?” Robbie plays the oblivious card.

 

“Um, err… sports?”

 

“I don’t intend to play.”

 

Sportacus nods, feeling positively nervous. He starts losing focus on why he’s there, trying to figure out what to say. He then looks at the other man again, catching his gaze.

 

“Wait a minute, you aren’t _blind_.”

 

Robbie sighs irritably, digging into his wallet. “Last I checked, I _was_.”

 

Sportacus is confused and he lightly raises his voice, though he’s still whispering. “It isn’t funny to pretend to be blind when you’re --- what?”

 

His scolding is caught in his throat when Robbie thrusts his driver’s license in Sportacus’ face. The card is indeed a picture of him on an annoying day. The name reads ‘Robert Ulysses Blind.’ The elf’s face heats up and he grins nervously.

 

“Oh, Blind! Heh, I’m, uh, I’m sorry.”

 

Mr. Blind grumbles a few obscenities under his breath for good measure, and then he stalks away. He leaves the park, and Sportacus feels an immense amount of guilt. He wants to run after the man and apologize profusely, but then Bessie calls him to the stage, so he can demonstrate a soccer trick. Awkwardly, Sportacus takes his place on the stage. He glances in the direction where Mr. Blind had disappeared, only to find the man has gone away. Shaking his head, the elf throws on a fake smile and proceeds to show the townspeople an immortalized trick known as the bicycle kick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  
> 
>  
> 
> If this fic is inspired by anything, maybe just the countless Lazytown fics I’ve been reading the past few weeks. It’s actually been a lot longer now. I’m trying my hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Jives is 14; Pixel and Stephanie are 12; Stingy and Trixie are 11; Ziggy is 9  
> Glanni is 37; Robbie is 32; Sportacus is 30
> 
> Sportacus is an elf and he doesn’t like the word hero  
> Robbie isn’t a villain, but he’s the town recluse inventor and clothing designer  
> Sport’s ship Loftskip is alive
> 
> Robbie is half fae and half sprite  
> Stephanie is half pixie and half human
> 
> Sport’s older brother is Ipro (another elf, age 37) but they’ve never had much of a close relationship  
> Robbie’s older brother is Glanni, but he’s been busy ever since turning 18 and they rarely see one another; Glanni is fully fae
> 
> Ziggy’s given name is Zigmin  
> Stingy’s given name is Jodi  
> Trixie’s given name is Beatrice


End file.
